Hey Lady
by more-than-melody
Summary: He lets out a small sigh of guilty relief. He’d expected worse. Still, their ideas of ‘bearable’ are far different. RoyxRiza, Royai. Set during Ishbal.


Disclaimer: FMA isn't mine.

Song: Hey Lady by Thriving Ivory

* * *

_She checks her pulse  
Gotta know if her heart's still beating  
And the hospital's not far if anything  
Should happen here_. . .

When she wakes, the first thing she is aware of was the pain. Her back burns, though the flames are gone. She focuses on her breathing - in, out, in, out - trying to pinpoint the source. It only takes a few moments. The right side of her body is more of an ache than anything else. It is the left, particularly her lower back, that is the source of much of the pain. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

She opens her eyes to find her entire torso had been wrapped in bandages, including up over her left shoulder. A blanket has been spread over her lower body, covering her underwear and bare legs. Through a slight crack in the front flap of the tent she can see a sliver of sky that tells her it is still nighttime. She turns her head to see him sitting in the sole chair the tent provided, his face in his hands. An empty glass sits on the table beside him, and she isn't entirely sure she wants to know what it had contained.

"Roy?" she manages, her dry throat catching on the word and causing her to cough. He looks up, his expression worried. Underneath that, there is something else. Something most people wouldn't notice, but for someone who has known him for as long as she has, it's easy to spot. Guilt.

"Do you need something?" he asks, feeling helpless.

"Water would be nice," she says once the coughing had died down.

"All right," he says. "I'll be back in a minute." He returns with a full canteen to find her sitting up, legs dangling over the edge of the bed. He fills a tin cup with water and holds it out to her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, taking it from his hand. The liquid looks black in the dim light that comes from the tent flap. She takes a long sip of the cool drink, letting it soothe her throat.

"How do you feel?" he asks hesitatingly, half afraid of what the answer will be. She gives him a slight smile in response.

"It hurts," she admits. God did it hurt. "But it's bearable." He lets out a small sigh of guilty relief. He'd expected worse. Still, their ideas of 'bearable' are far different.

"You should lie down," he says softly. "Try to get some rest."

"What about you? Aren't you going to sleep at all tonight?" He sighs and looks away. Of course she's worried about him.

"I don't think I could sleep, even if I wanted to." He turns to her. "I'm sorry," he whispers, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes. As his fingertips brush her skin she flinches. He pulls back immediately, clenching his hand into a fist. His face shuts down, guarding his emotions once more. She wishes she could rewind and fix this, as she has wished so many times before.

He rises abruptly.

"I'll be outside if you need anything," he says, ducking out the tent flap.

Standing is an effort, but once she's managed that it is easy to locate the spare clothing she brought with her. Getting into it is another story - the loose blue shirt isn't so bad, but bending to put her feet through the foot holes of her loose black leggings takes several minutes. When she's completely dressed she's not quite sure how she managed it, but she takes another drink of water and heads out after him.

She finds him standing no more than twenty yards away, on a rise overlooking the central portion of the Army Camp. He is wearing a white button-up dress shirt that has seen better days tucked into his blue uniform pants. His hands are buried deep in his pockets as he watches the edge of the red sun peek over the horizon. The sun gives the camp below a red tinge that they both find fitting.

If he is surprised to see her, he hides it well.

"Is it always going to be like this?" he asks as she takes her place at his side, where she belongs.

"I'm not sure what you mean." He gestures vaguely and looks down.

"You flinching every time I touch you. Every time we meet I leave you with another scar. What happens when it's something you can't will away? When you can't look me in the eyes anymore, because of what I've done?"

Neither of them say anything for what feels like a lifetime.

"Thank you," she finally murmurs. It's not really an answer to his question, but she isn't sure that she has one.

"Thank you for what?" he asks bitterly. "For hurting you yet again?"

"For setting me free." He is speechless, because he can't see how any good can come of this. She turns to face him. "I know how hard it was for you to do this for me. It wasn't fair of me to ask you to." A smile appears on her face, just a slight turning upwards at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you," she says again, and with that, she raises herself up and presses her lips firmly against his for a few sweet seconds. Neither of them move for several seconds, standing there with their eyes closed. Then she withdraws and retreats back into the maze of tents, leaving him standing there alone.

To the world he is the same person. He looks much the same as he did when she first found him standing there. On the outside he is unchanged. On the inside, he is starting to realize that maybe he'll be able to forgive himself for all the things he's done wrong after all.

_Hey lady, don't give up on me  
And don't burn your heart out love  
Until we're ash over seas  
Hey lady, said I don't want to fight  
Like pretty girls need cowboys  
I need you here tonight..._


End file.
